Waiting for You
by rdsullivan
Summary: In the busy times of the 48th century, a small motley crew of people struggle to find meaning to their lives and the incredible events that revolve around them. This is a segway from Episode 2 to Episode 3. cxK, SxA, MxJr., ZxJ, YxM
1. Prologue Part 1

**Author's Note:** Thank you everyone for reviewing! I decided to delete the first chapter, revise it, and resubmit it. So please try and reread it, because I tried to alleviate a lot of the mistakes I saw in the original.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Xenosaga, its story, or its characters. The title and story are © Takahashi, Saga, Namco Bandai, and Monolith Soft. However, this fanfiction is -mine-.

* * *

**Waiting for You**

Prologue - Part 1

-----

**The Past: Anno Domini**

_I can vaguely recall it. The millennia upon millennia receding from the shores of time, how quickly they fade since my soul's last glimpse of the corporeal realm. Eventually, in the distant future, even I would come to forget myself._

_Up until that final moment - the memories, my body, and the divine power entrusted to me - I tried to extinguish them for good. I tried to prevent them from being stolen by those who had the audacity to pervert life with their clout and distorted philosophies._

_Yet I hesitated._

_As I teetered on the brink of mortality and peered into the black, watery abyss of my end, I quickly prayed that my sacrifice would not be in vain. Then, just as I resolved to surrender my life into the rolling depths far below, I felt something softly land atop my right shoulder, though the touch was so faint I had nearly missed it. Forgetting the delicate situation into which my panic had driven me, I sensed my body slowly turn around, and I soon beheld what would be my last visual recollection._

_There I stood before two turquoise jewels, which twinkled with such a dear benevolence that urged my body to slacken. The soft rustle of plumage danced in my ears as a tender breeze slipped through six feathery bodies and calmly brushed past my face. Though the intense light enveloping this beautiful creature soon blinded me, I sensed a familiar warmth that quickly pacified my fears. I could not tear my eyes from it, even if I wanted to. Thus I remained blind, petrified in awe of manifest perfection._

_The few seconds of delay caused by this brief apparition had saved me from commiting a most fatal choice under the heavens, but it also allowed my pursuers the opportunity to tranquilize and reel in this power. Yet as I lay on the ground, my consciousness quickly slipping from my grasp, I felt that same warmth imbue every vessel in my body and circulate faster than the sedatives. At that last point in my memory, before the poison fully took hold of my mind, I knew that though my form, identity, and awareness would eventually become lost in that endless ocean, my divine inheritance would one day become the salvation for all existence. I knew because _he_ had returned, even if but for a short moment_.

-----

**The Present: Transcend Christ**

"KOS-MOS! GET OFF ME!"

"Negative."

"Tch! I was only tickling... I WASN'T attacking her!"

Sensing the sincerity in this last exclamation, KOS-MOS promptly stood up from a flattened Jr.

"I apologize. To prevent future misunderstandings, I have now stored 'tickling' into my database."

"It'll also help if you stored 'don't sit on people' in that database of yours," Jr. grumbled as he massaged his back.

"I apologize. That, I cannot do. However, I suggest you seek immediate physical therapy for your spinal column, as to ensure an expedient recovery."

Perfectly timed, an amused giggle dispersed the heated (on Jr.'s part) argument, and both parties faced its source. There MOMO stood, blissfully drinking in the whole scene before her. The spirits of this little observational realian, KOS-MOS observed, had greatly improved since Jr.'s return from the space-time anomaly. She also noticed a collective increase in hormone levels, thermal energy emissions, and erratic speech patterns whenever the youths were in vicinity of each other. Disturbed by this illogical behavior, KOS-MOS had decided to keep a close eye on the two.

"Thanks KOS-MOS! I think I can handle Jr. from here," MOMO laughed as she helped an ailing Jr. to his feet.

As the android watched MOMO and Jr. exit the corridor, the synapses in her neural network ran haywire trying to decipher the strange interactions between the two "children." Realizing that these disturbances in composure far exceeded her logic drive's capacity, KOS-MOS deemed any further dwelling on the subject as an inefficient use of time, and concluded the fluctuations in mood to be a contagious disorder of the central nervous system. Those who seemed to have less severe symptoms were Ziggurat 8, Gaignun Kukai, Shelley Goodwin, and chaos.

"Hey KOS-MOS, how are you?" a friendly voice inquired from behind, accompanied by a gentle hand on the android's right shoulder. Jolted from her thought processes, KOS-MOS quickly turned around.

"Hello chaos. I am well, thank you."

The tawny-skinned adolescent chuckled at her programmed formality. "I noticed you were standing in the hall for a long time... a penny for your thoughts?"

Being completely ignorant of ancient idiomatic expressions, as well as ancient currency, the ruby-eyed android simply blinked in response.

"I'm sorry! I mean to say, what's on your mind?"

This time, KOS-MOS did not hesitate in answering: "Recently, the algorithms I have been programmed with could not support the comprehension of the abnormal behavior accompanying Jr. and MOMO's interactions. When their vital signs, such as heart and breathing rate, began to deviate from normal physiological patterns, I closely monitored their meetings, in case a serious progression of these symptoms were to follow. However, I have calculated an 86.63 percent probability that these abnormalities are due to a deficiency in neural stamina, a psychosomatic disorder, if you will. Therefore, with vigorous mental exercise, I predict a full recovery and a 27.88 percent increase in overall productivity."

Now it was chaos' turn to blink in surprise, though he softly chuckled again. "I think I'm beginning to appreciate what Shion goes through! Speaking of which," he smiled serenely while deftly switching the subject, "She's been worrying up a storm about you. I'd get back to the Elsa as soon as possible."

"Affirmative. Thank you chaos," KOS-MOS replied, and with that exited the corridor for the Durandal's tube train, followed quietly behind by chaos. Once they entered the car, three soft notes rang, and the train door sighed shut.

-----

_Where am I? It feels like I had just awoken from an eternal slumber, yet I cannot recall ever having fallen asleep in the first place._

_A name! That's it! I had a name once - but even that eludes me…_

_Open your eyes. I see nothing though; nothing but white light. Stand up. Walk around; see if you can understand where you are. Still, there persists that same white light everywhere. I do feel safe here, and warm, though for some reason I also sense a heavy sinking within my chest. Am I missing something, or someone? Of course, I cannot fathom what or who._

_I think I will continue walking in this direction, it seems to not matter which. Maybe then shall I discover where, or who I am..._

-----

…_it has been ages now, I am sure. Why am I here?_

_It is so... empty._

_Are there others like me? Shall I eventually find them… or am I to forever remain alone in such a barren place… No! I will find someone!_

-----

…_Another lifetime of treading passes…_

-----

…_still no scruple of memory has surfaced. Though my body is not weary, I am too tired of walking now- I must stop. My nose prickles. My hands, they turn blurry as hot tears roll down my cheeks and into my open palms. The weight grows heavier within my chest, and I allow it to drag me down to my knees. The inside of my throat vibrates, but nothing escapes my mouth. My hands cradle my bowed head, and I feel my body tremble as the tears continue to wet my face. The weight has finally burst into wildfire, and ravages my body until the smoldering embers of my core collapse._

_...I am alone._

----

"We apologize for the inconvenience," the intercom calmly voiced after two minutes of delay, "but the Durandal's shuttle service is currently experiencing technical difficulties, and will resume mobility in at least 20 minutes. Once again, we apologize for the inconvenience, and hope to restore all operations as soon as possible."

Unmoved by this announcement, the two passengers remained still in their original occupations, as if carved eternally in stone. One was planted stiffly by the door, while the other, leaning cross-armed against the opposite wall, silently mused to himself.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

Aquamarine eyes shot up in surprise at KOS-MOS. chaos had not noticed until now that she had been staring at him this whole time, and he immediately returned her gaze with a smile.

"You sure catch on quickly!" he happily observed, quite impressed by the android's conversational adaptation.

However, his countenance soon fell to a sober one. What he had truly been thinking before stirring from his reverie, it may be impossible to recount. Were the whole of his thoughts to be measured, they would easily eclipse in size all the oceans, planets, stars, galaxies, even universes that had ever existed, as one would suspect an eternal, neverending, and neverbeginning soul might do. However, streaming amidst the deep realm of his mind was a hope - a bright comet whose sparkling tail left fading, ungraspable flecks of memory. The appearance of a certain, ruby-eyed android had recalled this hope to life, and kindled the turning tides of his soul ever since. Finally, after deliberating over what to say, chaos gently took KOS-MOS' hand and invited her to sit with him in adjacent seats.

"KOS-MOS," he began, "I first want you to know that Shion's really proud of you, and that I'm quite proud of you as well. You've grown a lot since you first came on the Elsa, and I can see that you continue to learn more every day."

"Thank you, chaos."

"I also think..." chaos paused for a second, and, averting his eyes from KOS-MOS' to his hands, continued, "I also think the time has come for something very important to happen. I - ... well, I hope you understand."

KOS-MOS, having been programmed with a basic set of social matrices, simply nodded in reply. She continued to stare at chaos, who, after a moment of hesitant delay, finally surrendered a fraction of his thoughts.

"When the rest of the group and I dove into your subconscious, I faced the end to a difficult question. Too much pain and death littered each of the possible paths - I felt I needed more time to think before committing to a decision. However, since Proto Omega and the events that followed, I have never been more sure of what I had to do."

Here chaos stopped, inhaled, then exhaled deeply. While he was speaking, his eyes had remained fixated on his hands resting in his lap. Now, he quietly met his company's unwavering gaze: ten seconds, twenty, four minutes passed. The boy and android remained focused on each other - one wishing to prolong this moment for eternity, the other patiently awaiting the rest of the confession. chaos was not reluctant to go on for the sake of relieving embarrassement, but rather for the future grief he wished to deny. He took a great risk in carrying out his decision, but knew that once this ever-waxing wave of events engulfed them, the very existence of all life as he knew it would depend on the awakening of KOS-MOS' true form. Therefore, casting his doubt aside, chaos once again inhaled, exhaled deeply, and continued.

"Forgive me," he slowly took the android's gloved hands into his own, and, eyes locked onto hers, uttered, "_Ye Shall Be As Gods_."

What immediately followed was an incredible account, which was not too far in effect from the miraculous ecstasy of ancient saints upon receiving divine enlightenment. The slender figure of metal began to tremble and glow, and electric sparks popped and pierced the air around her. chaos reached out to restrain her, but nearly retracted his gloved hand upon realizing that KOS-MOS' body scorched with an incredible heat. Then, ignoring the seething-hot pain that seared his clothes and skin, the silver-haired boy threw himself toward the android, wrapping her tightly in his arms and spilling forth a sphere of white light, which obscured their bodies and washed out the train's interior.

----

**The Future: The Second Coming**

…_Do my ears deceive me? No, it must have been a dream._

_-Wait, there it is again. I know I heard it this time. How it is so faint! I must find it! Wake up! Rise to your feet! Yes, run to it. Please, please let this be something– anything!_

_I think I see someone, a silhouette off in the distance._

"_-a…"_

…

"…_Yeshua?"_

-----

Deep within the fabric of space, a slight ripple stirred.

-----

Meanwhile in the Miltian star system, there drifted the panorama of an immense, technological empire, much like the broad expanse of an ancient manta ray gliding silently about its oceanic domain. In the most prominent tower of this vast cruiser, the executive director paced calmly about a fast-whirling relic.

"And just what are you planning to do?" the refined CEO reflected as he stopped to observe the cryptic patterns orbiting a central, rotating cube. "You know just as well as I that your hope to stop the eternal cycle is but an empty one. The tides of morality ebb as the path to Nirvana draws nigh, yet you still insist on suffering a vain dream. Indeed, it will be rather fascinating to see how this play unfolds, old friend…"

-----

Allen Ridgeley – brilliant alumnus of the prestigious University of Bormeo, handsome fancy of many a shy admirer, and one of the top engineers working for Vector - suffered from a severe lack of self-esteem. He hated his passive role while his friends toiled on their recent journies together, and could not help but feel utterly inadequate around Shion. He knew there lie within him a latent strength with which he could support and fight alongside the Chief, yet he could still not overcome the debilitating fear of failure that stopped every potential feat of courage dead in its tracks. Sure, he was smart as a whip when it came to computers and machinery. However, as far as romance and close-range combat went, he was an awkward train wreck waiting to happen. What he would not give to have the resolve to awaken the hero sleeping within him, and for at least a slight moment, earn Shion's notice.

"Hey Allen, have you seen KOS-MOS recently?" the chief Vector engineer inquired as she met up with him on the Elsa's bridge.

"Oh hey Chief!" Allen goofily smiled, as he always did whenever Shion spoke to him. "I'm sorry, I can't say I have. Is something wrong?" While marveling at the petite form in front of him, he noticed a slight crease forming between Shion's eyebrows.

"No, not really," she softly replied while her gaze slowly fell to her feet. "I guess I'm just a little worried, is all."

"About what?"

"I don't know, it's kind of silly," she muttered. In reality, Shion had taken great measures in humbling herself before approaching Allen, or anyone for that matter, with her concerns. It had been two years since she had gathered the courage to open up, much less trust anyone. However, as she could not quell her rising worries as of late, she had to take a risk, had to seek someone who she felt was closest to her.

"C'mon chief, give me a little more credit than that! You know you can always tell me whatever's on your mind."

Shion looked back up at Allen and smiled with a look of relief that released the knot between her eyebrows, and returned her fair features. "Thanks Allen. I know I never tell you this, but you're a great friend."

Allen's face flushed as he exerted a great amount of willpower to keep from staggering.

"But if you don't mind, could we talk somewhere else? It's getting a little crowded in here," she signaled with her eyes toward the eavesdropping crew of Tony, Captain Matthews, and Hammer conspicuously huddled behind Allen.

The assistant chief, who could not have been more eager to quit the collective nosiness/jealousy burning into his back, promptly agreed and escorted Shion out to go to the Durandal Park.

"Hm. I guess transportation's out of the question," he observed once they had reached the vacant gate.

"That's okay," Shion said as she sat down on a nearby bench and patted the spot next to her. "I don't think anyone out here will really want to listen anyway."

Allen obeyed and turned attentively toward the green-eyed brunette. He made sure to tread very carefully on this moment, since this was the first time that Shion would actually open up to him.

"So, what's up?"

"Well," she began, first looking into his eyes, but soon shifting her attention to her lap, and then nervously continued, "to tell you the truth, I've been pretty worried about KOS-MOS - I know, what else is new, right? But lately, I've been haunted by this feeling that something terrible is going to happen. I just... I just can't shake it out of my mind." She gave a shallow sigh when she finished. The first step was done.

"Is it about what we saw in KOS-MOS' encephalon dive?" Allen tentatively asked.

"Yes... and no. You know as well as I do how oddly KOS-MOS has been acting since the Woglinde..."

'_Yeah, I never knew whether she was going to kill us our save our hides_,' Allen thought.

"...and I still haven't been able to figure out what Kevin (Allen slightly shifted) did to make her have such an unpredictable OS. It's just- none of this makes any sense!"

"Do you think... I mean, is it possible that someone's behind all of this?"

"...I don't know," Shion solemnly mused, "I don't want to think that we're all being manipulated, but ever since Jin revealed what's inside the Y-Data... something seemed really off..."

Instantly, something clicked in Shion's mind. Though it had been swarming in her thoughts since Proto Omega, the significance of the Y-Data's contents had managed to elude Shion's grasp this whole time. Considering the string of bizarre events that followed their escape from Old Miltia, it was no surprise that she would have been distracted from piecing together the facts. However, when she finally voiced her concerns out loud for the first time, it was as if a fog had been lifted from her eyes, and her thoughts soon turned painfully lucid.

'_The gnosis and U-DO appeared when the Zohar went out of control_,' she reflected, like she had done many times before without avail, '_and research for the Zohar was funded by... Hyams? Isn't Hyams Vector's main corporate rival? What were they looking for in the Zohar, and why did this all take place in Miltia? That company's CEO and the Immigrant Fleet - no, Ormus - what were their intentions? Are they responsible for Old Miltia_-'

'_Oh no_,' Shion suddenly thought with horror. Memories of her mother's illness; the Miltian conflict; the gnosis; the Mizrahi institute; her parents' death; Feb, Cecily, Cathe and Kevin's deaths; and Commander Cherenkov rushed into her head.

'_Was all of this meant to happen? Were all of these deaths planned from the very beginning_?'

"Ch- Chief?"

Shion did not answer as she descended deeper into the thickening morass of her fears. A frenzy of emotions welled up inside, and she bit her lower lip to try and hold the levee still; yet as harrowing memories continued to assault her faster than her comprehension would allow, she soon relented and buried her face in her hands, as the great walls of her resolve crumbled.

Allen felt his heart sink - this was precisely the moment where he wished for all the courage in the world, the courage to cradle her heaving shoulders in his embrace, to tell her that everything will be alright. Even if things didn't go so well in the end, he at least wanted to be there by her side. Although Allen did not know the life Shion had before Vector, he was wholly aware that she went through hell and back with the tragedy two years ago. If he could will it, the chief's pain would vanish in an instant. But as he had yet to overcome his own insecurities, he just helplessly watched the woman he loved cry, though on the inside, she did not cry alone.

-----

A considerable throng of annoyed commuters had already accumulated once the train finally slid to the docking station. Three soft notes rang, and the door gasped open.

"KOS-MOS!" came an ecstatic squeal from within the crowd, and one of the two exiting passengers was immediately charged in a tight embrace.

"Wow Shion, are you okay?" chaos queried as he moved aside for the influx of irate passengers flooding the train.

"Oh I'm just glad she's back safely," Shion said, still tightly clutching a dumbfounded KOS-MOS in her arms.

"Shion, your serotonin and adrenaline levels are exceeding the limits of your brain's efficiency. I suggest visiting the infirmary as soon as possible, as to quickly alleviate this condition."

The brunette engineer laughed (a bit heartily, chaos perceived) as she released her grip.

"I hope it wasn't too much trouble retrieving her," Shion sincerely appealed.

"Oh not at all," chaos insisted, "it's always a pleasure to have her company." At this, chaos rested his hand on KOS-MOS' right shoulder.

Just then, Allen, who had hung back when Shion ran off, could have sworn he saw KOS-MOS' irises faintly flicker blue. He rubbed his eyes hard, and looked again to find that her eyes were still a bright crimson. Resolving that it must have been some reflection of light, he soon approached the three.

"Hey guys, sorry to break up the party," he said bashfully scratching the back of his head, "but I think we'd better get going soon, or else chaos'll be in for an earful from Matthews!"

"Good thinking," chaos agreed. "Well then, it's been quite an adventure with you guys."

"Oh, definitely!"

"Yeah chaos, I hope we all run into each other again," said Allen.

"I have a feeling we will," the mysterious boy smiled. After hugging Shion and shaking hands with Allen, chaos turned to KOS-MOS. The android nodded.

"Good bye, chaos."

"Farewell, KOS-MOS. Shion, Allen," he nodded at the other two, and departed for the Elsa.

_Until we meet again…_

-----

After watching the Elsa lift off and leave the Durandal, Allen turned to Shion.

"Well, I guess we better get goi-"

Allen was suddenly cut off by a tight hug. Trusting his instincts, he carefully wrapped his arms around Shion, as if to prevent stirring awake from a dream.

"Thanks, Allen. Thanks for listening," Shion finally said after surfacing from his chest. She looked up into his eyes, and he gazed down into hers. However, realizing how close their bodies were, they both immediately flushed and broke out of the firm embrace.

"I, um, eh-heh," both stuttered at the same time, and blushing ever more deeply, continued to make the mood more awkward.

Meanwhile, KOS-MOS secretly confirmed her theory about the instability of human minds, and turned toward the shuttle to the Dammerung, leaving the two engineers to squirm in their embarrassement. Stopping just short of the shuttle door, she sensed a slight dissonance in her own cerebral patterns, and noted that she was long overdue for a maintenance check up.

_I shall wait for you… Yeshua._

-----


	2. Prologue Part 2

**Waiting for You**  
Prologue - Part 2

-----

_O divine fruit of man's imagination! How I praised and thanked you, and lamented the death of you by history's hand. Just as the hour of desperation conceives pliant lambs from a pile of stones, so have I come forth seeking that which you would not give me. In my disappointment, I was forced to betray and reject you, just as you had done unto me. Now that I have quit your Kingdom and witnessed its death, I ask of you one last thing. Forgive me Lord, for I shall become you..._

-----

"How does that feel now?"

"Better," the boy fibbed through a strained smile. The young girl standing at the side of his bed crossed her arms, puffed out her chest defiantly, and cocked her head wearing an unconvinced frown. She had remained at the boy's side since his return on the Durandal, and although the now bed-ridden patient seemed quite fit at first, his composure's degeneration became more apparent as the hours progressed. First it was the fatigue, then the migraine, the blanching, the vertigo, and finally – the sudden collapse. An earlier incident involving a 200-pound android on his back did not ease matters either. Now, whether to put an end to further embarrassment, or to prevent his friend from realizing that her efforts to heal him by ether were in vain, the fiery-haired boy pretended his best to be much healthier.

"No really, I'm fine now! Thanks," he insisted, growing slightly more annoyed despite himself.

"Nice try," the girl grinned. "You should know that I of all people would see right through that."

The boy dared not talk back.

"Now, drink this elixir," she continued, completely convinced that the patient would recover with enough persistence on her part, "and don't let me catch you spitting it back out!"

The boy immediately swallowed the bitter liquid upon the preemptive warning, and screwed up his face, though he soon appreciated the warm, tingling sensation coursing throughout his body. To him, the girl was overreacting, not to mention way out in left field in trying to diagnose him. Fortunately, before a grueling five more minutes of therapeutic nagging could ensue, the infirmary door gasped open, and the boy secretly rejoiced. A large, blond composite of metal and flesh stood expectantly in the entryway, and silently nodded toward the little pink-haired realian, indicating that it was time to go. The boy did not see his friend's disappointment when she turned to face the cyborg, but received a warm, tired smile when she turned back again.

"Look," the girl sighed, looking straight into her friend's eyes. "I know I've probably annoyed the heck out of you over the past fifteen minutes, but I'm only trying to help."

"No, no! It's not that, it's just-"

"-And," the girl continued over her blushing friend, "I know that I could never fully understand the pain you must have gone through. But holding it all in like this is only going to hurt you in the end."

"...I know."

After a deliberate pause that increased the embarrasement of one and the triumph of the other, the pink-haired realian finally nailed in her point.

"I can't force the pain out of you... but don't shut me out either," and with that, the young girl left her friend's side. Stopping just short of the door, she looked back toward the boy to survey the effect of her reprimand. Thoroughly embarrassed for his ungrateful behavior, and in an attempt to redeem himself, the young patient responded with a playful hack and, feigning death, sank his head into the pillow and hung out his tongue. The girl giggled and playfully rolled her eyes as she returned her attention to the older man and exited. The boy's gaze never left her.

Jr. shut his weary lids as the door sighed close. Although he valued MOMO's concern and fruitless - yet appreciated endeavors to ease his pain, he knew that no one could soothe the violent grief scraping at the remaining fraction of his heart - a muscle that pattered so feebly within his chest as it tried to keep up with worn, laboring lungs. When joined with its brother on the right side, it was filled with hatred and spite, but at least its beat was whole. The reverberations in his chest had set the rhythm of his destiny, had resonated with his friends' hearts as his resolve merged with theirs. Now that the driving force was gone, leaving the palpitating half to fend off its own eventual demise, it was up to him to renew that will which was lost along with his twin's life.

"Will these hands ever be clean?" Jr. softly asked aloud to no one in particular. Eyes still closed, the solemn boy recounted events passed, and soon grains of sand would coax him into a deeper realm of thought.

-----

Meanwhile, an ornately-robed man stood before a large window, and gazed from his office upon the vast skyline of Second Miltia. The planet's star, Creer, coated the city and room in a brilliant gold while it lazily descended below the horizon. In the bare silence of this room, a faint draft of the ventilation system could be heard, and nothing stirred, as if frozen in an old, sepia photograph. In the middle of the office stood a high-ranking Second Miltian officer, who appeared to be in her mid-30's and who had just arrived. The man, seemingly unaware of her presence, continued to brood on some distant thought.

"Sir, I have come to receive my orders."

"Isn't it strange..."

"Sir?"

"This galaxy- no, universe. We have shed so much blood for this "manifest destiny" of humanity," reflected the Second Miltian representative. His dark eyes lingered on a homeless woman scavenging through a dumpster on ground level. She was immediately shooed away by the nearby restaurant's owner. "But still... could we be mistaking Fate's hand with something so sinister, so wicked, that we are ignorant of our own manipulation?"

"Pardon me," the ebony-skinned man chuckled as he turned to face the soldier. "My mind has trailed on one too many tangents in my older age."

"All is well, sir."

"Captain Roman," Representative Helmer nodded. "I trust that you have had little problem in securing further information on the armed factions from within the Federation?"

"With all due respect, sir," Captain Roman politely said, "the inconveniences that my team and I have encountered are insignificant compared to the success of our mission."

"I honor your courage and dedication to this goal," Helmer responded gravely, "but please take into consideration that your lives are as valuable to the cause as well."

"We shall try our best to take every precaution."

"Very well then. You are to once again accompany Gaignun Kukai at the Kukai Foundation, and report back to me anything out of the ordinary."

The captain blinked in surprise.

"But sir, considering that a lot of essential information has yet to be uncovered within the Federation's network, I must ask why you are assigning me to such a, for lack of a better word, "simple" task?"

"You're right. Ordinarly, I would only send your team on the highest-risk missions. However, I have had an unsettling feeling about Gaignun for quite some time now. Should my suspicions prove to be true, I'd want my best soldiers handling the situation."

"Understood. Please forgive my rudeness."

"Oh don't worry about it," Helmer smiled. "After all, I have always valued your judgement above anyone else's in Second Miltia, sometimes even above my own."

"Thank you sir," Captain Roman bowed low, hiding the slight blush spilling across her face.

"You are dismissed."

The soldier bowed once more and started toward the exit.

"Lapis?"

She stopped.

"Be careful."

Captain Roman paused for a moment, and then disappeared behind closing doors.

-----

U.R.T.V. #666 was always aware of his younger twin's heightened sensitivity, and might have worried that they would become #667's bane, might have realized that the severity of #667's insecurities were not to be ignored, nor to be casually tossed aside as some mere deficit in character. But he was too guilty of inexperience, youthful naivety, and a narrow-minded pride to have foreseen the tragic fate that belied his younger brother. Nor was he truly willing to give the deep, complex compassion that this younger twin eagerly sought from him.

"_I can trust you, right? As long as you're here, I don't have to be afraid of U-DO, right?_" the white-haired youth tentatively asked from behind #669 one day. His eyes begged #666 for signs of assurance and security, for the sake of knowing that his leader, his idol, his source of jealousy and contempt would return all of them safely from their final mission.

"_Of course! Pull yourself together!_" the redhead replied matter-of-factly. "_We're the variants. Your waveform's way beyond a standard U.R.T.V_." Thus ended any further conversation.

To his credit, #666 did occasionally notice his twin's violent behavior, particularly toward the standard U.R.T.V.'s. He always made sure to check his brother on these tantrums, for he knew, though could never fully understand the fact that #667 would listen only to him. Naturally, #666 became increasingly annoyed with catering to #667's feelings all the time, and often resented having to watch everything he said, lest he provoke the more sensitive twin to cry.

"_Man, what's his problem?" _Rubedo sighed to Nigredo later on that same day. Their group of U.R.T.V's had been summoned to the infirmary for their biweekly checkup, and Albedo was the first of the three variants called in for his physical. The two remaining brothers sat in adjacent seats, separate from their standard siblings and next to the door of a private clinical room that was reserved specifically for them. The waiting area bore warm, cream-colored walls from which several animated paintings hung, and was quite the contrast from the austere metal panels enclosing the corridors of the Yuriev Institute. In fact, it was one of the few safe havens available for the children to escape from their reality.

"_Huh?_"

"_Albedo. What's his problem?_"

"_What do you mean?_" Nigredo cocked his head.

"_Well..._" Rubedo began. While leaning his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on interlaced fingers, he stared absentmindedly at a digital painting opposite wall. In it, the sun was just beginning to set on a group of rowboats calmly docking into a marina . "_First of all, he's so damn sensitive, and he constantly clings to me. If I say anything even remotely offensive to him, he just breaks down and cries. I mean, it's as if I'm walking on eggshells, you know? And I sure as hell can't tell him to suck it up, because he takes all criticisms so personally._"

"_Yeah,_" Nigredo agreed. "_but do you think it's because he really looks up to you?_" He was very cautious in treading upon this topic, offering insight in the form of questions, and quietly observing from an objective point of view. For this reason, Nigredo was unofficially designated the mediator between the twins.

"_I don't know. He can be pretty selfish, so I can't really see him looking out for anyone past himself. I mean, I know he'd have our backs during a mission... but outside of battle, he requires so much attention. It's like I'm babysitting him half the time._"

_"...but you do care for him?_"

"_Of course I do! It's just that, a kid can only take so much of this before he snaps. And I can't ignore him either, because that'd probably make matters worse._"

Nigredo did not respond this time. He did not reveal that though he knew his older brother had much reason, he also felt that Rubedo lacked much compassion for the younger twin. Instead, the raven-haired variant had also begun to gaze at the same painting. It was now twilight, the boats were floating silently at their docks, and one dock remained empty.

"_I think I just need a break,_" the redhead finally said, "_a break from Albedo..._"

-----

#667's paranoia of losing the attention, love and life of his dear, mortal twin was unrelenting. This insecurity that easily festers in the mire of a desperate soul encouraged an increasing possessiveness over his older brother, as the hours wittled down to their final confrontation with U-DO. Despite the constant reassurance from Rubedo, the younger twin failed to shake off this ominous feeling that infected in his mind. He could not directly tell his leader these worries, could not harp on this pain that made his heart so wretched with every prevailing thought, lest he get laughed at, or scolded for being weak. #667 desired so hard to be free of his persistent self-reproach, to be able to face his fears with the confidence and sensibility that were so wanting. Perhaps if he had these virtues of a strong character, Albedo often dreamed, he would have been a much worthier brother in Rubedo's eyes. However, he only had but five more seconds to reconcile these regrets when the whole artillery of living weapons was suddenly ushered out of their military truck, toward what was to be their final mission together.

The atmosphere grew thick in Miltia's capitol city as black, corpulent clouds gathered in the night sky, blotting out the stars while subtle drops fell from their vaporous bellies. 3:00 A.M. glowed on the face of every Miltian clock, and all the capitol's citizens remained blissfully dormant, save the few wandering souls and graveyard shift workers. Looming above the already impressive skyline was the tower of Labyrinthos, which was the central station of U-TIC, a research organization founded by Joachim Mizrahi, and also designated home to the original Zohar and Song of Nephilim. Deep within these headquarters stood a ring of standard U.R.T.V.'s and the three variants, who encircled the lip of a vast, metal pit. An immense cage of steel beams and platform further surrounded and held them in its stomach, as if eager to digest any hope of escape.

What culminated in the abysmal gullet was U-DO: a phenomenon, a wave existence, but more importantly to the children awaiting it, an unfathomable energy against which the U.R.T.V.'s were created to destroy. Each holding out one of their hands, the U.R.T.V.'s commenced in binding their minds into a powerful spiritual link, just like all of the former, simulated practice runs. With Nigredo on his left and Albedo on his right, Rubedo assured his two variant brothers that everything was under control. When a barrage of U-DO's energy beams finally emerged and slammed into their circular link, all the youths present remained steadfast as they tried their best to quell their fears. The air was tense, and no one seemed to breathe. U-DO continued to shoot out of the central dark shaft, and the rest of the children waited for their leader's command.

-Suddenly, a phantom scene pierced Rubedo's concentration. In the millisecond-long duration of this image, a planet could barely be discerned through some hazy medium. Rubedo, having never willingly ventured past the boundaries of the Yuriev Institute, and being deprived of any formal education other than military training, was clueless as to which planet this was; yet still, he sensed an odd familiarity attached to it. Then, without warning, a terrible pair of bat-like wings ripped violently out of the crust, dragging along with them the planet's entrails of lava. The viewer tried to scream out loud as he felt his whole self writhe in agony, but no one heard him during that brief period. Shocked from this unexpected revelation, the fiery-headed boy faltered as the scene abruptly ended after what seemed, to him, to be five whole minutes.

"_Rubedo?_" Nigredo called out, noticing his leader backing away from the link.

"_Wha- what's wrong Rubedo?_" Albedo warily asked. His right hand was stretched out to the slithering green ring of spiritual energy, while the left desperately clung to Rubedo's unlinked hand.

#666 did not answer just yet, for he was still greatly disturbed by what he saw. He was even more puzzled by the fact that this image had entered his mind in the first place, as though it had been lurking in the depths of his subconcsious this whole time, waiting until the opportunity became ripe for it to spring upon him. Why would it surface now, right before Rubedo's pivotal command? Was there a reason much more dire than carrying out their mission? Fortunately, the leader of the U.R.T.V.'s was always sharp of mind, and quickly pieced together the dilemma presented before him.

"_Emergency cutoff!_" the redhead finally yelled out. "_I'm cutting the spiritual link!_"

"_No! Don't do it!_" the snowy-haired boy screamed. "_Please Rubedo!_"

"_I know what I'm doing_," Rubedo said more confidently than he actually felt. "_Damn... that bastard knew all along_."

"_No Rubedo! It's suicide!_" Nigredo reasoned.

"_It's suicide if we stay like this too!_" Rubedo yelled back, revealing the answer to the riddle that had hitherto been obscured by ignorance. "_Dad never told us about what would happen when we actually destroy U-DO. He never told us that the resulting anti-particle collision would be converted directly into a massive surge of thermal energy. If we carry out this mission, we, along with everything else within a 100 mile radius from here, will be incinerated. Yuriev planned this from the very beginning!_"

The rest of the U.R.T.V.s stared in disbelief at their leader, each beginning to feel more helpless as the seconds rapidly poured away.

Engrossed in the frenzy of thoughts that clouded his mind, Rubedo did not see those desperate tears racing down Albedo's cheeks. He did not hear nor heed the pleas screaming into his right ear, and did not notice the epidemic fear and confusion quickly spreading among the U.R.T.V.'s. Though he was unsure of the specific consequences, he realized that he had to make a most terrible decision, and knew that the losses would be great. It was a most unpleasant path, but he finally chose to survive: Rubedo sharply tore himself away from Albedo's hand, precisely at the same moment that the most concentrated flux of U-DO breached the rim of the pit.

"_NO!_" Albedo shrieked, his eyes widening along with Rubedo's, and his agony stabbing into every heart present. What few crumbs of courage remaining in the children were mercilessly swept away by the swelling wave of dread in the air. One by one, U-DO blasted and ripped apart the wills of the dumbfounded URTV's, who but a few minutes ago stood courageous and confident.

Amid the chorus of screaming and through the flood of his own tears, Rubedo stumbled and desperately searched for his two closest kin. There was no sign of Nigredo, and he spotted the inert form of Albedo sprawled face-down some fifteen feet away. The older twin started to run towards his unconscious brother, only to be restrained by a firm grip on his shoulder. He spun around to face the youngest variant, Nigredo.

"_No Rubedo, it's too late!_" yelled (though still barely audible) #669, a look of panic marring his usually placid features. "_Albedo got hit!_"

Rubedo shook his head stubbornly and cried "_Let go!" _as he once again turned towards Albedo's direction- but where was Albedo? Both brothers blinked in surprise to find no fallen sibling, no more pandemonium of infected U.R.T.V.'s, and no more furious tendrils of U-DO. All was silent, as if none of the recent events had even occurred.

"_What's going on?_" Rubedo slowly queried as he cautiously backed up. "_Where did everyone g-_"

Rubedo turned around once more, but this time was not greeted with the same set of emerald eyes and raven hair.

"Miss me?"

"A-Albedo!" Jr. staggered back, now donning the current long jacket, jeans, and chaps.

"Yes!" the older form of Albedo hissed, "The one and only." He felt it most necessary to confirm his presence with a dramatic bow.

"B-but, I thought you were-"

"Buh buh buh buh," Albedo cut him off. "It's a pity they didn't teach you how to speak in dog training school, dear Rubedo."

"But I thought you were dead!" Jr. repeated, ignoring Albedo's taunt. "I mean, in the space time anomaly, where we fought. I kil- I mean, I saw you die! I saw your soul rise into this light, and you were lifted by these flying Kirschwassers!"

"My, what an imagination you have there, _brothe_r," Albedo stressed the last word with a venomous grin. "I see that you still haven't transcended the perversions of a twisted 12 year old boy. I suppose that's quite befitting for ma belle peche, anyhow."

Jr. felt an fresh anger rekindle within his chest, but stopped short of letting it overtake his reason. "C'mon Albedo. Cut the bullshit and tell me what's going on."

"Oh! You want to know what's going on? Why, you should have just mentioned that in the first place!" Albedo baited.

Jr. just waited coolly.

"Well, what would you say to the idea that I'm actually just a figment of your imagination, hm? That you shall forever revisit this time and place in your nightmares, and no longer look forward to those sugarplum, peach-filled dreams of yours?" the supposed Albedo jeered.

"...That's it?" Jr. scoffed, slightly relieved in realizing that this was all just a dream. "That's what this whole thing's about?"

"Ha!" the taller man spat. "Let's see if you're still this cocky once you taste a piece of my insanity. How do you plan to filter dreams from reality? How do you protect your loved ones once your mind lends itself to chaos and pain? He who sows demons into the soul shall only reap tragedy! Perhaps, once you go to the dark side, you won't be such an arrogant little prick. I hope you savour it, _brother_."

Without warning, the apparition burst into a flurry of bloody ribbons, leaving nothing behind but a howling, disembodied cackle.

"Whatever," Jr. annoyedly sighed. "Now how the hell do I get out of here?"

-----

"What the f- ARGH!"

It all happened so fast - before he could react, Allen became entangled in an uncomfortable knot of the Professor, Assistant Scott, and himself. The engineer had just left First Division's cafeteria in the Dammerung's eastern wing, when he was inadvertently ambushed.

"Ungh- GET OFF OF ME!" Allen cried as he squirmed out of the potentially reputation-crushing position. Unfortunately for him, high-resolution surveillance cameras were quite prevalent in this day and age.

"Gee whiz, aren't you feisty," the Professor grumbled, slightly taken aback. He and Scott not-so-oddly-enough were the last to untangle themselves.

"Wha- what are you guys doing here?" Allen sputtered. The Vector employee bristled as his complexion quickly out-rouged his hair. "Aren't you supposed to be at the Kukai Foundation?"

"Well you see, it all started when-"

"We don't have much time to talk," Scott hastily cut the Professor off. "Vector sentinels are right around the corner."

"You broke onto the Dammerung!" Allen asked, flabbergasted.

"Like I said, no time to talk. We need a to place to hide now!"

"Alright, follow me!"

With a sprint, Allen led the two eccentric mechanics through an extensive labyrinth of side corridors until they finally reached his room.

"You two should be safe here for the time being," he gasped once the door slid shut behind him.

"Thanks a lot, pal. We really owe you one," Scott exhaled with difficulty. The Professor huffed and wheezed as he slumped down in a nearby chair.

"Don't get too comforatble," Allen warned, frowning at the Professor, who was currently soaking his favorite chair in sweat. "Once this mess is over, I expect you both to be out of my hair and back at the Kukai Foundation, pronto."

"Well you see, therein lies the problem," Scott sadly shook his head. "We can't get back to the Kukai Foundation. All communication and transportation to and from there have been blocked, so we're basically stranded right now!"

"Communications and transportation cut? Just what were you guys doing when you found this out?"

"Well, the Professor wanted to test out the Erde Kaiser 3, so we decided to do a practice run outside the foundation's gravitational field."

"It is FAR superior to Erdes 1 and 2 COMBINED!" the Professor most enthusiastically added.

"After we collected all the necessary data," Scott continued over the increasingly excited elder, "we turned back toward the Foundation, but we soon encountered an army of the foundation's A.M.W.S surrounding the entrance. They wouldn't let us through and told us to turn back."

"The Erde could've easily taken care of those scamps, but '_nooo, we shouldn't provoke a battle with the Foundation_," the Professor bitterly muttered loud enough for Scott to hear.

"So what did you guys do then?" Allen inquired.

"Well, I told them that we were residents of the Kukai Foundation, and asked what was the meaning of all of this. The same soldier then told us that the Foundation was now under the jurisdiction of Dimitri Yuriev, and that any access to and from it was strictly forbidden."

"Dimitri Yuriev..." Allen said, "The Kukai Foundation has been taken over! We've got to let Jr. know fast!"

-----

"Jan?"

"Yes, Juli?"

"Thank you... for protecting her."

"It was my duty, and therefore my highest priority to ensure the safe return of MOMO. I would have done nothing less."

Standing beside MOMO in the middle of Second Miltia's space port, the middle-aged brunette smiled at the familiar sound of "duty"; she recalled the many times she had used that very word to replace her own emotions. Although Juli Mizrahi knew that she still had a long way to go in establishing a deep relationship with her new daughter, she was at least willing to open her heart once again. She pitied the man in front of her, and saw in him the same bitterness that had incased her heart for the past 14 years. Juli thus hoped that he would some day find more meaning to his life past the call of duty.

"If the need arises, do not hesitate to reach me through the U.M.N.," the cyborg concluded.

"I will," she returned. "Do take care, as I am sure MOMO will be looking forward to seeing you again."

Both Juli and Ziggy looked down toward MOMO, who herself was looking down bashfully at the floor. She did not like the idea of being separated from Ziggy for a long time, much less having to say good bye.

"MOMO," Ziggy gently said in his deep voice as he knelt down before her. "I will always be a U.M.N. call away, so if anything worries you, just contact me."

The young girl remained silent while swiveling her toe on the ground. She then looked at Ziggy, tears welling up in her amber eyes as she awkwardly tried to smile.

"When will I see you again?" she softly asked, though her voice cracked at the end.

Ziggy looked away, unwilling to prolong the pain of departure he had to inflict on this little observational realian, and on himself. He did not like dwelling in this uncomfortable situation, and mentally scolded himself for letting the attachment get too far.

"Soon, I hope," he lied, for he suspected that the next time they saw each other, it would be under dangerous circumstances. "Until then, take good care of your mother for me."

"Ziggy..." MOMO softly squeaked, trying to choke back more tears. She prepared to hug him, but was interrupted when Ziggy abruptly stood back up and turned to leave.

"Good bye, MOMO, Juli," he said with his back facing them, and then left toward the shuttle for the Durandal.

Juli put her hand on MOMO's right shoulder, and smiled when her daughter looked up. She could not comprehend Jan' Sauer's cold good bye, considering he and MOMO must have bonded during their recent trials, and she knew that the man cared very much for the young girl. Perhaps there was a pain that would not allow him to get any closer? In that case, Juli realized that Ziggy was more like herself than she had initially thought.

"Don't worry MOMO, you'll get to see him again soon," Juli encouraged, hoping to lift the little realian's spirits.

"Thanks mommy," MOMO returned Juli's smile, while wiping the back of her sleeve across her eyes. Dr. Mizrahi felt a surge of emotion at hearing that name, a name she had so longed to hear from her deceased daughter. Now that she has gained another daughter, she resolved to never let her go, for MOMO's sake, and for Sakura's promise.

"Would you like me to tell you about your older sister?" Juli asked while walking with MOMO toward the port's exit.

"Oh yes, please!"

So ended the stay of mother and child in the space port, as they left for Juli's home for the first time in their lives together.

-----


	3. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Yay! The first "chapter" is finally up. I've also made my -final- revisions to the to halves of the Prologue: as you can see, _Entry 192_ is no longer in the second half. Furthermore, the actual chapters will be much shorter (about the length of this one), whereas the Prologue's purpose was to kind of introduce the dilemmas of most of the characters.

Thank you all for supporting me and reading my fanfic! I can only hope to get better, and make my version of the story more interesting.

* * *

**Waiting for You**

Chapter 1

-----

"Agh..." Jr. grunted while grasping the side of his head. The pain came suddenly, and pumped with a viscious determination through every capillary in his body, until finally climaxing against his left temple as a brain-splitting migraine. He cursed himself for getting up too fast from the infirmary bed, and leaned his left side against the nearby wall for support, though the vertical stability did little to ease the pain. The lights in the room appeared to pulsate at the same rhythm as the pounding in his skull, and in his suffering, he felt absolutely no remorse for wanting to shoot the idiot who figured it'd be such a clever idea to make them so bright.

How long had he been asleep? Had they arrived at the Foundation yet? Patience was never one of the redhead's most outstanding qualities, nor was it attempting to restrain him in this instance. Jr. resolved to get out of this over-lit room, and grappled the wall as he made his way toward the exit. Meanwhile, a strange, yet subtle sensation seemed to tug at his concentration, hinting that he may not be entirely alive.

Almost there, just ten more feet. However, the closer he inched, the more the room dizzily revolved about him by vertigo's hand. The lights glared and beat ever more fiercely, as if meaning to bully him from claiming freedom from this therapeutic prison.

Almost there, just two feet left. Once in reach of his destination, Jr. cautiously detached himself from the wall, and staggered valiantly toward the door. The progress from wall to door seemed to turn more viscous and slow as the boy traveled helplessly in the air, for time itself seemed to mock him. Jr. instinctively directed his left hand toward the access panel that directed the door's function, but that attempt proved to be as ineffective as his escape. Had Ziggy not just arrived on the other side, a facefull of floor would have been the ailing patient's only gain. The cyborg caught Jr. just as the door slid open.

"Jr.!" Ziggy bellowed in surprise. "What are you doing out of your bed?"

"Wha...?" Jr. breathed. His eyelids grew heavier as the seconds elapsed, and the taller man quickly transported the boy back to the hospital bed. "Don't worry about me, old man. I'm fine..."

Ziggy didn't humor this ridiculous remark, and felt Jr.'s head with the back of his organic hand which he had promptly ungloved.

"You're burning up. I'll call the doctor; you just lie there and don't exert yourself," the cyborg ordered, now making his way to a green U.M.N. panel across the room. Jr. cracked open his mouth to protest, but had no strength to provide sound for his objections. The room dimmed faster and faster, and the form of Ziggy soon turned hazy as the boy's consciousness slipped away.

When Jr. opened his eyes again, he immediately clenched them shut to defend against the explosion of white light. He blinked furiously until his pupils adjusted to a reasonable diameter, and, after taking a few bewildering seconds to register where he was, groaned as he began to recognize the sterile pastel walls, metal railings of the bed, and the rhythmic beep of the cardiac monitor that signaled the strength of his pulse. Then, a sudden eruption of noise on his left caused Jr. to face that direction, and rest his gaze upon a snoring Ziggy.

What a sight! Despite his own bizarre circumstance, the redhead could not help an affectionate smile at the sleeping cyborg, hunched and cross-armed in a chair.

"Hey, old man," Jr. called, yet elicited no break in the nasal concerto. Fortunately, the recent sleep had restored much of Jr.'s energy, and thus permitted a loud "HEY ZIGGY! WAKE UP!"

Jr. waited for the older man to calm down, retract the armblade, and finally reseat himself with a most unamused expression. However, Ziggy quickly forgave the mischief upon realizing Jr.'s improved state: a healthy color had returned to the boy's complexion, and he was no longer showing signs of fatigue.

Remembering the previous imprudence that landed him back in the infirmary, Jr. carefully propped himself up in bed, and locked eyes onto Ziggy's. Like two adults of different mindsets that finally come to agreement, both nodded silently. Once the unspoken gratitude was transacted, it was clear to both that the situation at hand was not one to be taken lightly, nor to be delayed by further formality.

"How long was I out?" Jr. started frankly. '_It couldn't have been that long_...' he added to himself; though, before he had fainted, he was surprised to see Ziggy arrive back from Second Miltia so soon.

"Since I returned, you had been asleep for about twenty-seven hours."

"Wha- TWENTY-SEVEN HOURS?" Jr. nearly jumped out of his bed, though he heeded Ziggy's advice to calm down. How could he have been out for a little over a whole day, when it seemed like he had merely taken a nap? The older man continued to explain that the coma had actually spanned two and half days, the first thirty-three hours being what accounted for Ziggy's "quick" return. The last twenty-seven hours, however, were what rang in Jr.'s mind, and caused him to stare at Ziggy in utter disbelief. A slight tremor stirred the boy's composure, and scattered shards of a fading dream crept to the surface of his recollection.

"Am... am I still dreaming?" Jr. cautiously inquired; a growing fear slowly ticked its way up his spine.

Ziggy remained silent, instead looking past Jr. now. A peculiar expression twisted the usually stoic features on the cyborg's face, and the boy turned to his right to follow Ziggy's attention. Immediately, Jr. embraced the truth to his suspicion upon discovering that he was no longer confined to a hospital room.

Distant waves rolled, roared and clapped heavily against the sea, while the foam trimming the receding tide hissed softly against the salt air. Jr. now sat alone on an endless stretch of sand, looking out into an endless stretch of ocean, half-wondering how he got there, and half-not caring. The boy glanced to his right and casually regarded a rowboat resting in the sand, just as dreams seem to allow us a mysterious possession of previously hidden knowledge, as well as apply sense to the most illogical phenomena. He further took for granted the notion that he had just arrived ashore by means of this small craft, and was now cultivating in his mind the intention to row back out to sea.

Jr. then decided to inspect his boat, as if searching for some meaningful secret tucked away within the wooden planks. He got up and walked towards it, stopping just short of the bow, and slowly slid his hand along the hull's outer rim, until finally reaching the stern. The feeling was surreal, for though he could see the sharp flecks of wood splintering out from the vessel's weathered frame, the sensation was one of a smooth caress over a finely polished surface. He further observed two benches perched within the belly of the dinghy, both elevated above a small pool of saltwater and dirt that had collected along the boat's floor.

After a moment of lingering, and out of the corner of his right eye, Jr. soon caught sight of a shadowy figure approaching him from the side. The dreamer inexplicably remained fixated on the boat, though he vaguely acknowledged a curiosity toward the identity of this person. Before being roughly shaken awake, the redhead finally voiced, or rather thought an unbidden answer to the stranger, "But I don't know how to get back..."

"Little Mastah, Little Mastah wake up!" a concerned voice suddenly twanged. Jr. was hesitant to open his eyes this time, for he knew not what next to expect.

"Little Mastah, you've got to wake up!" the voice and shaking persisted, yet immediately relented as soon as Jr.'s vision extended to a pair of blonde pigtails flouncing about a pair of blue eyes.

"Mary... am I still dreaming?" the boy grumbled, now aware that he was still in the infirmary bed.

"I wish," the normally perky woman said while letting her lips curl ruefully. The smile quickly evaporated, however, upon recalling the reason for which she roused the Little Master awake. "I'm afraid we've got some real trouble on our hands, and this is no dream."

"What's wrong?" Jr. now sat up and slid off the edge of the bed, feeling quite well rested.

"Allen Ridgeley's just informed us that Dmitri Yuriev has taken over the Kukai Foundation. I didn't believe him at first, but then one of the 100-series confirmed it when she said that we've been incommunicado with the Foundation for some time. She didn't inform us earlier, because she initially thought that communications were temporarily disturbed by the dense stardust in our area, which can happen."

Jr. ignored the pain of his fingernails digging into his palm as he clenched his fists. Any traces of suspicion of this still being a dream were now erased by an intense, undeniably real anger.

"That bastard..." he growled, unable and unwilling to quell the heat radiating throughout his body. Both Mary and the door sensibly made sure to clear out of the way, as the commander of the Durandal furiously stormed toward the ship's bridge. Mary pursued the redhead, and secretly smiled.

There was much hell to pay, and Yuriev had been long overdue.

-----

Meanwhile, not straying too far from the Durandal, there cruised a large, teal and silver bullet, otherwise known as the Elsa 2.5, which had been upgraded since escaping the Ormus stronghold. Stationed within the bridge of the ship was the entire Elsa crew.

"Uh... Captain?" Hammer called from his computer terminal.

"What is it?" Captain Matthews lazily grunted.

"I'm picking up an emergency signal from the Durandal. Should I put it on screen?"

"Wha- did your mom give birth to a rock! Of course put it on screen ya moron!"

'_Hmpf, and _your_ mother must have given birth to a sack of booze_,the navigator muttered to himself as his finger tapped the appropriate spot on the computer panel. The Elsa's main U.M.N. screen flipped on, precisely at the same moment when Hammer's head bounced forward from the force of Matthew's foot.

"Hey Little Master, what's up?" the Captain politely addressed the transmission, though he still managed to sound generally disgruntled with life.

"Hey Matthews, we've got huge fish to fry right now," Jr. revealed bluntly on the screen. chaos, who sat at the terminal opposite of and a little behind Hammer's, noticed that Jr. had invoked a considerable amount of will to suppress his anger while on screen. "And I'm going to need you guys to help."

"Why, what's going on?" Tony piped up from the helm of the Elsa's bridge.

"It turns out Yuriev's taken over the Kukai Foundation - don't ask me how. All I know is that we have to get it back as soon as possible before that bastard tries anything tricky!"

chaos notably furrowed his eyebrows in concern, which passed unnoticed by the rest of the Elsa's crew, while Tony and Hammer looked tragically clueless. Matthews, however, was dumbstruck.

"You- you can't be serious! Dmitri Yuriev?" the Captain stammered. Jr. nodded with a grave expression on his face.

"Dumbtree Who?" Tony blurted out, not attempting in any way to degrade himself with intelligence.

"Dmitri Yuriev," chaos gently repeated. "He was the man who created the U.R.T.V.'s by genetically mass-producing them using his DNA. Reports from 14 years ago state that he died, just after the Miltian Conflict, due to a supposed accident at the Yuriev Institute. However, many who had met him in person suspect that there must have been another reason behind his death, for he '_seemed like the type that wouldn't die so easily, or at least not from a mere accident_.'"

"...But, he's alive now?" Matthews asked, still struggling with the idea of how the hell this chump could come back from the dead.

"That's right," Jr. answered. "And if I learned anything from growing up at the Institute, it's that the man wouldn't think twice about sacrificing many lives, and ruining those of countless others if it would help him reach his goal. He's got something up his sleeve, and I don't exactly like the prospect of letting him romp around the Foundation at will."

"What do we need to do?" Hammer bravely asked, though visibly quivered.

"I'm thinking that he's going to be pretty paranoid about us and the rest of the galaxy breaking through, so he'll no doubt have deployed a huge barricade of mechs around all the ports and entryways. Plus, it'll be a little difficult to sneak in unnoticed with this huge ship floating around."

"_That's what you get for trying to overcompensate, Little Mastah!_" a woman's voice twangingly scolded offscreen on the Durandal.

Jr. pretended to not hear the remark, and continued, "But that's where you guys will come in. If you could get enough Foundation A.M.W.S.'s and A.G.W.S.'s to chase after you, we could take care of the rest and force the Durandal through the main port." The end of his plan elicited an audible snerk from one of the Elsa's crew, which further prompted a large, and more importantly painful projectile hurling from Matthew's chair.

"So what you're saying is," Matthews clarified in his gravelly voice, "that we're supposed to slap a huge steak on the Elsa's back, then prance around in front of these guys until they notice and chase after us with all of hell's fury?"

"Well, if you put it that way, then... yeah," Jr. responded as a matter of fact. "But you'll have the advantage of an upgraded shield system, as well as vastly more powerful ion thrusters since the last repairs."

"Aw man," Matthews whined as he slumped even more pathetically in his chair, not unlike a burlap bag full of rotten potatoes. Despite Jr.'s efforts to reassure him, he suspected that this had got to be about the craziest thing he'd done.

"This has got to be about the craziest thing I've done," he finally sighed.

"Well..." Hammer began to recall.

"SHYADDUP!"

-----

* * *

**A/N:** Ooo that nasty Yuriev! If anyone's got any suggestions or advice on how to make this story more enjoyable to read, please let me know! Now on to Chapter 2...  



End file.
